A Willful Heart
by fubunny
Summary: She had no idea who she was or where she came from, only the bits and pieces of truths plucked from here an there. It mattered not. She thirsted only after the mysteries of the world. In uncovering the secrets of Middle-Earth, she begins to unravel her own past and story. Who knew the frigid Marchwarden of Lothlórien would be so eager to help her?
1. Prologue: Evelyn

**Disclaimer: I don't own LotR**

**A Willful Heart**

**Prologue: Evelyn**

* * *

This wasn't the hunting trip he had planned it to be.

Aedelrik trod through the snow, bent double. It wasn't as though the wind was strong enough to permeate the layers of skins he had on, nor was it because he had a lot of weight to carry. He only had several rabbits and a vole slung across his back, much to his disgust. It wasn't nearly enough to feed his family for the rest of winter, and supplies were running scarce in town.

It had been nine days since he had left to hunt, with little to show for it. Gwynnethir would be disappointed.

Although, he _did_ have several more days before he needed to return home. So perhaps he would encounter the tracks of a large buck while he wandered, as unlikely as the thought seemed. His thoughts drifted in a downward spiral of pessimism.

The short yip of his dog brought him out of his cynical musings. Something had alerted the canine. He glanced around, on edge. What bothered the animal?

Apparently, he had missed the wolf tracks that surrounded them.

The dog's fur stood up on end, but nothing else signaled that the predators were near them, even though the prints seemed to be rather fresh. They had been hunting something.

He followed the tracks, with his dog sprinting ahead, but the longer he followed them, the stranger he felt this hunt had been. Where were the tracks of the prey? Dread began to grow in the pit of his stomach.

Fortunately, it didn't take long before they converged together for the kill. By then, the forest had become dense, and it was difficult to see his dog bounding through the snow-covered landscape several paces ahead of him.

He brushed through the thick foliage, muscles taunt and eyes darting about cautiously. Wariness seemed to stifle the air, making it seem as though he were trying to breath underwater.

The middle of the clearing held a very beautiful woman. Or at least, if he looked past the carnage the predators had inflicted, what had seemed to be a beautiful woman.

His dog was whining and pacing around the body as if distressed by its lifelessness.

In his slow pace towards the carcass, he realized it wasn't at all a woman. By the points of her ears, it was a she-elf.

He knew little about such creatures, except for the legends that had been passed down in the forms of stories told to the children. He had loved them as a boy. In common knowledge, elves were the Firstborn of the Ilùvatar, unimaginably beautiful and impossibly graceful. They held a much different connection with all living things that humans did, and they were able to use magic.

He sighed, his heart heavy with sadness. This was the first elf he had seen, and she was dead.

He looked up at the sky, knowing it would be a much longer day than he had anticipated. Perhaps there would be animals caught in the traps he had set, for there would be no time left to track another animal after giving this woman a proper burial.

He began the process of burial, with his dog lying at the side of the dead she-elf, whining in misery.

xXx

It was finally done.

He had, at first, been unsure if his rites were suitable for such a creature as this. But he had nothing else to give, so, once he lowered her into the ground, he sung the song used for the death of the village leader, hoping it would be sufficient. Afterwards, he had filled the grave with dirt and snow, sealing the body of the she-elf in the earth, forever.

He walked away, his steps heavy and his gait slow, as if weighed down by the world. His dog trailed after him, its tail limp between its legs, paws shuffling through the snow, as though mimicking its master.

The sun had dipped below the horizon long before the funeral rites had finished.

He headed southeast, back the way he had come, in order to return to the cave he used as shelter on these hunting trips. The traps he had set up were close to the shelter. He had no strength left to check them tonight.

The two quickly reached their destination, and settling down, huddled together for warmth. They shared the remaining dried venison, and Aeldrik worried that he wouldn't bring home enough meat because he himself needed sustenance to survive.

Fortunately, the worrying didn't last very long because he quickly fell asleep, exhausted from the day's events.

xXx

A cry wrenched through the air.

Immediately, Aedelrik woke up, hunting knife in hand. His dog was beside him, teeth bared and fur bristling.

It took several moments before he realized it wasn't the cry of a prey's last breath, bringing with it, a potential dangerous predator.

It was the cry of an infant.

His dog had already ran out in his stupor, eager to search for the source of the sound. He quickly got up and began his pursuit of the excited animal.

It took less than fifty paces to reach the dog. It was circling a large tree, growling and yipping energetically.

The source of the notice came from a large hole about several arms-lengths above his reach. The tree seemed slightly hostile as well, for the branches grew high up in the tree. The lowest branch was within reach, but it would take a lot of work getting to that hole.

He sighed in defeat. The trip had already become more trouble than it was worth.

xXx

The climb was successful. From it, he gained a human infant, countless cuts and bruises, and a severe headache.

The climb had almost killed him.

He had reached the nearest branch without much problems, but after that branch, everything began going downhill. Twigs and branches scratched at his face and arms and legs, almost as if protesting his intrusion. All the branches he had stepped on groaned and creaked, threatening to break. Several, in fact, did, and those close calls drove him to climb faster, foregoing his usual caution.

It had been the last branch that was the most difficult to handle. The branch looked thick and sturdy, but that wasn't the problem at all. It was the fact that the branch was just outside the reach of his hand. Moreover, the branch he had been on before that last one had broken under his weight. It took all his skill to jump while he fell, catching the desired branch with his left hand, blood roaring in his ears from his near-fall. He had quickly scrambled onto the branch he held in an iron-grip, shaking from the experience.

As for the journey down the tree, it happened quite quickly.

He had fallen.

That was where he had gotten his pulsing headache, and the more serious bruises.

He now lay there, staring up at the sky, wondering if he had broken anything, while the babe he held in his arms cooed at him, now happy in the warmth under his cloak.

His dog sniffed at the child, tail wagging so hard it looked close to breaking off and bouncing away.

It was time to go home. Too much had happened, and he couldn't care for an infant while hunting. Too much could go wrong. Besides, he knew nothing of caring for children. His wife would. Gwynnethir had grown up as the eldest of twelve. She had cared for her siblings when her mother had perished.

Yes, it was time to return.

xXx

Gwynnethir was busy. She had no children of her own, but several ran about her anyways, clutching at her skirts and chattering to each other animatedly, even though it was getting dark and they would soon be getting ready for bed.

It never ceased to amaze her, the unyielding energy children seemed to have.

She was cooking dinner for her and four children. Their mother was sick, and no one was willing to care for her young during the hard winter. After much hesitation, she had offered her help, despite knowing that the parents would not accept her help gratefully.

After all, only a rare few liked her.

It was only the children of the village and her husband who seemed to enjoy having her around. All others tolerated her presence among them due to her husband's high position in the village, and it was stifling. She rarely went out these days, not because of the cold, but rather because she hated feeling those glares and the dark mutters behind her back. It was intimidating, and she didn't want to bother the townspeople any more than she already seemed to.

Moreover, her husband remained oblivious to all of it. Even though she sometimes wished he knew, that she could feel safe and sheltered, she knew it was for the best to keep it this way. There was no need for him to get involved in her problems. They weren't abusing her at all. It was just uncomfortable.

The littlest girl suddenly began screaming and crying, pulling Gwynnethir's attention out from her thoughts.

"Oh, Freida, what happened child?" The woman knelt beside the bawling girl, using the side of her apron to rub away the grubby tears.

After a few more sobs, the little girl was able to choke out, "Lady Gwynn, Cyneric took Millie and hid her from me!" She promptly began a new set of screams and tears.

Gwynnethir internalized a sigh. "Now, now, dear girl. Be brave! Come on, we'll get your doll back in no time!"

Just as they were about to begin a little brawl with her older brothers, the door slammed open and a cold breeze fought to extinguish the flames in the hearth.

"Sir Aedelrik!" All the children scrambled to their feet and lined up before her husband, standing at attention.

"Hello you rascals! You haven't been running my wife to exhaustion have you?"

"No sir!"

"What have you brought back, Sir Aedelrik?"

"I want to be a good hunter just like you!"

Amongst the chattering of excited children, Gwynnethir was perplexed. He had come back early, carrying a strange bundle in his hands. Something must have happened.

"Aedelrik, what's that?"

The eldest of the children, Hamon, pointed inquiringly at the bundle she had been staring at in all the ruckus.

"This boy, is a babe I found in the woods. You all would care to be quiet or you might awaken her."

Immediately, all four clamped their mouths shut, the littlest adding emphasis to being quiet by shoving a her small fist into her mouth and sucking on it.

The woman, with curiosity eating at her, walked up to her husband and embraced him, while whispering in his ear, "You must explain how you brought back an infant instead of the meat you promised, husband. But do so later, after these children have been put to bed."

His chest rumbled in a throaty chuckle. "Yes dear wife. I will eagerly recount everything if you so wish."

She quickly ushered the children into their seats, for the preparation for supper had finished a while ago. Her husband sat down with them, eager to have a hot meal after the two weeks of eating dried foods and things he could scavenge that survived in the harsh winter.

"I know you all are hungry. But we must give thanks to Eru for providing first. Hamon, would you like to do the evening prayer?"

He did so eagerly, and they all ate until they were full and starting to drift to sleep. She carried the littlest on her left hip, balanced with her left hand, while holding the hand of a drooping Mildryd in her right.

Her husband carried the two boys in the same fashion she did Freida. The infant had been carefully placed on their bed, swathed in blankets, quiet, but not sleeping.

After putting them to bed, the two adults cleared the table in quiet, glancing towards the bed every so often to make certain that the youngest in the household was comfortable.

They finished cleaning and sat down on the bed together once they had changed.

Gwynnethir gently took the bundle from the middle of the bed and held it to her bosom, slowly rocking and humming a well-known lullaby. Although her curiosity had grown throughout the night, she was a patient woman. And she knew her husband had not forgotten her request from earlier that evening.

"I found the child tucked inside a hole up in an ash tree. It took quite a few injuries to get the child down."

The young woman looked up in alarm, glancing about his body trying to find anything serious. Her husband chuckled and tugged her gently into an embrace. He whispered into her hair, reassuring her that nothing was broken.

"Her mother is dead. Or the female who had been her guardian.

A she-elf. I know not her name or where they came from, for I found her dead. By wolves."

He heard his companion make a small whimper of pity in the back of her throat.

He sighed in agreement, for the tale was sorrowful.

"Gwynnethir, I don't know what we should do with the child."

"We are going to keep her, and raise her as our own."

There was no hesitation in her voice, rather a tinge of solemn finality. "That is the least we can do for the child and her dead mother."

He stroked his wife's hair, knowing that tone of voice allowed no room for argument. Nor did he want to continue to discuss the matter, for he had felt...drawn to the child as well.

"Very well beloved." He kissed her brow. "We will keep her. What shall we name her?"

His wife stilled for a moment, thinking.

"Evelyn."

* * *

~fubunny


	2. Chapter 1: Ulrich

Disclaimer: I don't own lotr :(

**A Willful Heart**

**Chapter 1: Ulrich**

* * *

"Don't be foolish."

"But Ulrich!"

"Enough!" His eyes flashed dangerously in anger, slamming his fist against the table as emphasis. The girl he was trying to intimidate neither flinched nor pulled her gaze away, the muscle in her jaw ticking in annoyance.

She held his look stonily, knowing there would be consequences. But despite that, her anger towards her mentor won out. How could he do this to her? Her brows furrowed in anger, and seething, the woman turned her face away, unable to continue to look into the man's eyes, fearing she might say something she would later regret. She had trained far greater years than most other warriors. She wanted to use her skills on the field, to both prove her worth and to help those weaker than she. Why could he not see that?

"Evelyn."

His voice permeated the swirling thoughts of anger in her mind, but she refused to look at him again. A few tense moments passed between them.

"Evelyn. Look at me."

His voice was almost a plea. She could not deny him when he took on that tone of voice. So, all the anger and tension left her body in the form of an exhaled breath, and she slowly lifted her head, eyes focusing on his yet again.

The man took his time to speak, raking a large hand through his hair. He was weary. The lines on his face and the gesture spoke that much. Her mentor did not delight in making her angry. Although she hated this decision, she knew he had a reason for why he wished to keep her away from the fight, and even more, another reason why he wished to withhold such information from her.

Hesitantly, she spoke before he. "I will be patient, Ulrich." She touched his shoulder, smiling as a sign of good grace. Though, what he did not know would not hurt him.

The man returned a smile gratefully. She would not understand something he could not quite understand yet either. Her skill was great, and yet, there was held within her spirit a kind of warmth that he did not wish to be extinguished by the darkness of battle. Of death. It was the kind of innocence that had always been present within her ever since he had come across her that night, when she was still just a child who had seen less than 15 winters.

_Ulrich felt as though he carried the weight of the world over his shoulders. He was hungry and exhausted from the day's journey. It was fortunate of him to have found this small village, else he would have to lay his head on the cold earth for another night._

_The inn he had walked in was quaint, and it seemed that this place received few guests, for all eyes pinned on his form the moment he walked in the shelter._

_The innkeeper was very welcoming, and the stares were not hostile, holding solely curiosity. It seemed they knew not of what he was. Thus, it would be safe to stay the night._

_Ulrich ate a quiet supper, glad no one wished to disturb him. It was a pity peace did not last._

_"Sir, sir!"_

_He looked up from his meal, seeing and unexpected guest sitting across from him._

_A dirty, ragged little girl gave him a wide smile and leaned her head on the table, intent in watching him eat. The gaze that lingered on his meal indicated a ravenous hunger._

_She looked to be, after all, a street urchin._

_He gave a heavy sigh within him own self. This girl, it seemed, would not leave until he gave her some food._

_Before he could offer her the rest of his supper, a terse bark disturbed the quiet._

_"Evelyn! No one wishes to be disturbed by one such as you! Get you home!"_

_A hand clamped down on the girl's thin arm, preparing to hoist her out the door._

_"Nay," Ulrich reached across and gripped the man's shoulder, forcing him to cease his movements. "She may stay. Her company is welcomed."_

_The man shot him a neutral look and left, muttering about strange guests and their strange ways._

_He paid the other no mind, and gave the child his food, which she ate with such enthusiasm it brought mirth to his eyes. As she ate, she chattered about everything that happened that day and of everyone in the village._

_He would indulge the girl tonight. After all, he would leave on the morrow._

xXx

_It seemed Eru had different plans for him._

_He had found the girl in early morning, sleeping outside his door. It seemed he gained a loyal companion who would not leave his side._

_The girl prattled away all morning as he went about buying and selling as he needed. The weather was already growing warmer._

_Ulrich was one of the few of his kind who did not travel with a companion or two, and it suited his tastes rather well, for he preferred to be alone. Yet this girl would not let him be._

_"I must leave, child."_

_Those words left his lips before he could ponder upon kinder words to say to one so young. It was quite foolish of him, and it was something he rarely did in his usual slow, methodical ways._

_But the damage was done._

_Hearing his words, he immediately saw traces of tears grow larger in the corners of her eyes._

_Aye. It was terrible of him to speak so harshly. It was no surprise she had taken to his company so well. From what little he had seen, most of the people did not welcome her presence among them. The old avoided her, and the children were very hostile._

_But the little thing surprised him, for she then stood up to her full height, not at all tall enough to intimidate a boy-child, much less a full grown man like he. Once the traces were wiped away with dirt streaked hands, she puffed out her chest, putting on a brave face. She would not cry, no._

_Instead, she gave him another of her toothy grins, the ones he had grown so used to seeing in his short time he had spent here._

_"Come, come!" She tugged on his hand, intending to lead him to an unknown place. "Come with me!"_

_He obliged, and was quickly led down many streets by a small hand, impatiently tugging on his. The gesture made him amused. Most strangers, let alone friends dared touch him so intimately._

_He was led to the very edge of town, and further into the forest surrounding the small village. The sight which met his eyes troubled him. Why would the child bring him here?_

_A cabin, which seemed to have been burned some time ago, leaned to the left, as though it were an injured animal struggling to remain upright._

_"This is my home!" The girl-child proudly proclaimed, puffing her chest out in emphasis. "You must come in with me!" Her hand again met his and tugged fervently._

_Ulrich felt his brows knit together in displeasure. He did not like what he saw, but he entered her home as she wished, indulging her._

_The home was littered with broken, burned furniture. Little could be scavenged, but at the very least, the pile of quilts and pillows in the corner seemed clean and untouched, though threadbare and poorly made._

_He stood there as she bustled around the place, looking here and there for…something._

_He began to think upon the next, most sensible course of action. Although it seemed more trouble than it was worth, Ulrich knew he could not leave to child to continue living in such poor, meager conditions. At the next town over, he could leave the child with a friend of his, and pay her for the trouble._

_A cry of triumph broke his train of thought._

_He jerked his head up, eyes seeking the girl._

_A patched bag was slung over her thin shoulders, and a tattered grey cloak wrapped about her slight form. Boots that were much too big for the child enclosed her feet, and in her hand she held a golden locket._

_His eyes met hers, their depths swimming with stubborn courage._

_"I am coming with you. You cannot leave without me."_

_His chest rumbled with an amused chuckle as he bent down, gently taking the necklace from her fingers._

_Once he clasped it securely around her neck, he gazed into her eyes somberly._

_"Aye. That you are."_

xXx

The man ran a hand through his hair, greatly amused by the memory of their first meeting. They had traveled far, the two of them, and he had decided several days before reaching Bree that he would not leave the girl with his friend.

By that time, she had begun her training with him, which had begun after the incident where he had caught her playing with his weapons. She had shown raw talent that could easily be polished to perfection, before he had rebuked her for playing with such dangerous things.

Somewhere along the way, he began teaching her all his knowledge which she took to eagerly, whether it be the language of the elves, Sindarin, or the art of healing and herbal remedies.

And, most importantly, in all their time together, her cheek did not diminish, something which kept his days with her quite amusing and interesting, different every day.

Aye, she had most surely changed him. Now, he wondered if he could bear the long silences in travels alone, without her voice breaking the quiet.

Again he wondered what he would do with his most recent quarrel with Evelyn.

She was a good warrior, and his reasons of denying her wish to battle were queer. It was almost as if she had become his daughter…but, he supposed, it was exactly that.

A grunt escaped his lips. Perhaps he would indulge her, one more time. He was getting much too old to fight after all, and he would rather be by her side for the first few before he became too weary to fight.

He looked all over town and could not find her.

Aye, she had cheek to disobey his orders. 'Twas a shame she had left without notice.

xXx

Damn.

She cursed under her breath, feeling her ankle throb to the beat of her heart.

Her ankle best not be twisted, lest Ulrich discover she had left without his permission.

To her fortune, the sharp pain began to fade into a dull thrum. The damage would most surely show in a few days, however, it was better than the inability to walk at all for as long as a fortnight.

She collected herself, standing up as gracefully as she could, yet still gently favoring her left foot. The pain would soon pass, else she might become a burden to the other men in the hunt.

She had brought little, and was easily able to cover her limp, for the pain was not so bad as it had seemed when she had fallen. She slipped back into place just behind the others as though she had not left, for they had not gotten very far from where she had fallen, once again arguing over which way the orcs had gone.

The girl rolled her eyes and held in a sigh. She was after all, a much better tracker than they seemed to be.

Several days passed before the encounter.

By then, Evelyn's ankle was only sore, and she was ready to fight. Every time her mind wandered, her blood would sing through her veins, excited by the prospects of battle.

Oh how she had waited long enough for this day to come. Even without Ulrich's calming presence by her side, she would enjoy herself and put her training to good use.

Unfortunately, the battle did not go as well as she had imagined it would.

It was a slaughter.

She parried and twisted, narrowly avoiding the rusted blade of the orc before her. Though the fight was long from over, she could not help but wish for a bath. The blood of orcs smelled foul to her nose, and the stench seemed to almost blind her as well.

But at the very least she was alive.

The village men lay about her, most dead or in their last breaths, crying out piteously. The rest had fled the fight, and she did not blame them for their cowardice. Now she understood why Ulrich would not let her come, though it was much too late to turn back. She felt a strong urge to avenge the deaths of these innocents, who had sought to right the wrongs these orcs had left them in the destruction of their homes and families.

It was also in this way that she would pay for her disobedience.

She heard the thrum of a blade rush through the air and by instinct, she fell to the ground and rolled, feeling her lungs jar agonizingly on the packed dirt ground. As she heard the dull thud of the enemy's weapon, just a hairs-breath away from her ear, she leaped to her feet, thrusting her sword forward, as far as it would go into her target.

Her strength wasn't enough.

The impact made her arm grow numb as it slipped uselessly to her side. The blade merely dented the armour, and had not even pierced the monster. It would not come out, and the beast was again, swinging down for a blow over her unprotected head.

This is where she would cease to exist, among evil creatures such as these. How piteous.

"Evelyn, you fool, move!"

A familiar voice caught in her ear, and her chest clenched, her heart swelling in hope. Ulrich!

The hope in her heart brought forth another surge, the will to live, and her limbs were thrown back into motion. She dove and slid between her assailant's legs, just in time before she felt, yet again, the dull thud of the orc's sword hitting the ground almost cruelly. But this time, it brought about relief which coursed through her veins and sang a sweet song under her skin.

She was alive.

The blade bit the ground, just as the head was promptly removed from orc's shoulders.

"Come, girl!"

A tone of urgency filled his voice as he grabbed her arm, propelling her before him, and pushing her to run at a speed she had never reached before.

It seemed as though they had run for days before he allowed them to stop. By then, her legs would no longer support her and Evelyn fell to her hands and knees, breathing in good air that quenched the fire in her lungs. It took a few more moments before the girl was able to brave speech.

"Why did you come to my rescue, Ulrich?"

She could not bear to look her savior in the eyes.

It took a few moments before he answered. It was his slow, methodical way that allowed her to calm from the fear that had run through her blood just moments before. Ulrich was here, and she need not fear any longer for her life. Though he be angry, no permanent damage would come upon her.

At that thought, she smiled wryly.

"You have become my daughter."

Evelyn stilled at his words, discomfited at the lack of rebuke coming through his mouth.

Although she had known this for the seemingly countless winters they had been together, it was rather strange to hear such an admittance from his lips. Almost as if…Nay. She could not bear to finish such a morbid thought. Nor would she allow him to continue such nonsense. She knew him well enough that he spoke only what was necessary, when necessary. The man had a purpose in bringing up such intimate words to her now.

Ulrich stared at the girl he had raised, his gaze even upon her filthy form. It was high time he began telling her. They had been together almost one hundred winters, and his days were growing slim. He had journeyed many strange places with the girl by his side, and she had been a loyal friend these many years. She was a bright girl, and would have seen the strange looks given them whenever they entered any large city, and yet, she asked nothing of him. Moreover, the years they had been together had been much longer than the life of just any man. But never before had he spoken of his past, nor had she hers, other than bits and pieces of the nostalgic, heartwarming memories of her mother and father. What was she hiding? Or was it that she had no wish to know?

A hand ceased his thoughts. Her hand. It was slight, but in it held much power. She had worked long and hard to gain the calluses and filth that caked the appendage, and even harder for the will to live this day.

"I thank you. You have become like a father to me, as well, Ulrich. You are much more to me than just a mentor or a teacher." Her eyes twinkled brightly, expressing her sincere thanks to him in their warm depths. " 'Tis unfortunate, but I think we best be leaving. Night will soon fall upon us, and we must get to safety."

He grunted in agreement, allowing her to help him to his feet before he took lead, guiding her through the woods towards the village they were currently living in.

Perhaps he would keep his secrets to his own self for a little while longer.

As they walked and the light dimmed to darkness, Evelyn took no notice of Ulrich's gait, heavier than usual, nor of his pained, labored breathing.

The man had been wounded.

* * *

A/N: I'm surprised at the amount of people that have viewed this piece so far! And I'm really looking to hear REVIEWS from you guys! Please? I would completely appreciate constructive criticisms and reasonable flames about the plot, or grammar, or whatever. I hope my mild archaic language is fitting the fanfiction too! Thanks for reading.

~fubunny


	3. Chapter 2: Hobbits

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, nor will I ever have the pleasure of calling it my own genius. Boohoo :'(

**A Willful Heart**

**Chapter 2: Hobbits**

* * *

Evelyn quietly breezed into the room, gently closing the door behind her.

The inn they had settled in just before dawn was quaint and clean. There had been two narrow cots, and the two companions were able to sleep peacefully for the rest of the early morn, neither disturbed by unpleasant dreams nor by the sound of the world stirring from its slumber just outside their window.

It was quite surprising that she been the first to awaken; however, the red-haired woman was not alarmed quite yet. Ulrich was much older than one would think him to be, and he was clever in the ways he used to hide his age. Yet, she had traveled with him for an exceedingly long time and saw his weariness from time to time. Still, she felt no pressing need to understand more about her mentor, whether it be of his past or his age. If he did not wish to divulge his secrets on his own accord, she had no need to pry.

Nor did she ever wish to let him know of her suspicion. He may react with wariness and strain himself even more in order to hide away from her, and she did not want that. It was enough for her that he remained by her side.

The girl sighed contemplatively, staring almost absently at the man still asleep.

It was not until her eyes focused that she realized: something was not right.

Ulrich was sweating and feverish.

She sat at the edge of his cot, meticulously dabbing his face with a clean cloth found in her satchel, wondering how this could have happened.

Her worries grew and she shot up, pulling back the blankets that lay over his form.

It could not be.

Dried blood dabbled the inside of the blanket and stained much of his shirt. The man had not even thought to remove his clothes or bind the wound before slipping into unconsciousness.

She frown at the thought. Nay, she had faith in Ulrich. The man would not be so foolish as to sleep without cleaning and dressing his wounds.

He must have passed out from loss of blood.

That thought eased her displeasure, but another brought about an increasing feeling of frustration.

How could he not tell have told her about the injury?

She felt blood rush to her face in anger, and a tick of annoyance grow on her cheek. He was always like this, never telling her of his discomfort, and always hiding it until he could hide it no longer. She would most surely give him many harsh words for hiding yet another thing from her, and one which affected his health so.

But for now, she must do something to help him heal.

Tearing apart his shirt, she took another clean one from her pack and ripped it into several strips, uttering an murmers of regret for the waste. But better a torn shirt and his wound be bound than not.

Before she could dress the deep, jagged gash that ran along the middle of his chest down to his hip, she would need poultice to ease the slow process of healing.

There was none left in their bags.

So Evelyn set out, determined to find some herbs.

xXx

It was late evening when she returned, anxious beyond measure.

It was a wonder how so many thrived in this town when there was no healer. And with no healer, there were no herbs or remedies that could aid Ulrich's healing.

Evelyn had even gone deep into the forest to find what she was seeking, but to no avail, for little of importance seemed to grow in this girl had even considered setting out alone to find that which she was looking for, but with no one to care for her companion in her absence, she could not risk it.

"Ulrich," She knelt by where he lay, brows knit together and heart heavy. "Ulrich, please forgive me. There is nothing to be found to help your would heal. When will you wake?"

Evelyn did not leave his side for the next several nights, attending to his ailing body as best she could with what little she had.

It was not until the fourth day that he woke in a half daze. His fever had not broken, but he spoke clearly.

"Take me to Bree. Find Althea. She will know what to do."

Evelyn quickly packed, eager to do what her mentor had said.

xXx

Ulrich felt little but pain and numbness in his sleep. His wound was not healing and it was betwixt the time of waking and darkness that he realized he had been poisoned.

Orc poison was not to be taken lightly, and few knew how to heal a wound infected by the corruption of evil.

It took many days before he gained the strength to speak to his friend, and what little strength he had disappeared with the words that left his mouth.

At the very least, Evelyn would now know what to do.

It would take more than a fortnight to reach Bree, and in those days, Ulrich felt his strength and vitality waning. He burned in fire, gripped by such unquenchable thirst and ceaseless pain, neither awake nor asleep. He could think of little else but his discomfort during the journey.

He was dying, and there was great possibility that Althea could do little to fix this, for it would be too late by the time they reached her.

He needed to save the last of his breath to speak with Evelyn, if his condition came to that. She needed to know what to do to keep safe alone, for though he had taught her much, she was still a naïve child at heart, and not at all ready for his parting. She needed to know where to go to find help when there was need for it. She needed to know of the growing darkness and evil, and be wary.

If only he had spoken to her before he had become so weak and ill but, Ulrich supposed, even he was not ready to part with his young companion.

For now, he would rest, to recover what strength he could.

xXx

Evelyn was worried. It had taken three days more than the fortnight she had expected to make the journey to Bree, and yet another day to locate where this Althea was.

It had been five days since.

Ulrich had shown no sign of waking, and though he had gotten no worse since the time Althea had began the process of healing, he was getting no better.

Evelyn was no fool. She knew the implications of such facts, but she wished with all her heart that he would make a miraculous recovery.

Yet, she knew there could be little hope for that.

There was little she could do with the exception of imploring the gods.

Oh Eru, please let Ulrich live.

xXx

"Evelyn, be a good child and go find some Kingsfoil for me. Surely you know what that is?"

The old woman gave her a sharp look, expectant.

"Aye."

"Wonderful." Althea gently placed a hand on her back, guiding her towards the door of her small home. " 'Twill be no trouble for you then! Off you go!"

With a gentle shove, the elder woman pushed her out the door, handing her a gray cloak just before she shut it behind Evelyn, as though eager to be rid of a nuisance. The young woman supposed it was for the better, for she had been hovering by the side of Ulrich for days, sleeping and eating little, too worried about her friend to take care of her own self.

Although the older woman had a sharp tongue, she also had gentle hands and was experienced in her craft. Evelyn knew Althea held much concern for her, throwing the younger woman out the door to force her to breathe fresh air and use the given time to care for her own needs.

She had no need of food at the moment, for her stomach was still churning with anxiety at Ulrich's poor state.

For now, she would go and fulfill her duty.

The red-haired woman threw on the cloak, feeling the change in the wind which brought with it the smell of rain.

She would need to hurry, for a storm was quickly rolling in.

xXx

By the time she returned to the tall, wooden gate of Bree, the girl's cloak was wet through and her legs caked in mud. The rain fell from the sky in torrents.

She was cold yet thankful that Althea had been thoughtful enough to provide the outer garment. Without it, she might have ended up bedridden.

Moreover, the girl was famished. Perhaps she would pay a visit to the Prancing Pony before returning to Althea with the _Athelas_, or Kingsfoil, as the older woman had called it.

She preferred using the elvish tongue in reference to the names of plants. They felt much smoother to the tongue and less harsh in name.

There was no way to avoid the mud, which seemed to cake the soles of her boots and even the insides of her cloak, but all that was forgotten when she stepped into the tavern.

The place was dark and musky. Many creatures from dwarves to men from all over Middle-Earth occupied the room.

There were even smallfolk, who had the stature of a child coupled with the face of a full-grown man. They were creatures she had only read of in books.

Evelyn sat alone, just behind the table of the three smallfolk, who had called themselves hobbits. She felt fortunate that no one spoke to her other than the kind innkeeper, Barliman, who had served her smoked meat slavered in gravy and a pint of ale to wash it down. Barliman had great insight and understood that she wished to keep to herself; all others left her be as she sat in the half-shadows cast by the candlight and firelight.

Though weary, red-haired woman glanced about the crowded room cautiously. The amount of people there stifled her, and she felt closed in, feeling as though unable to keep to herself with so many others about her. Ulrich had always been by her side in crowded areas, guarding and guiding her among the other folk. Now that she was bereft of his presence, she felt naked and quite alone in this large world.

_Coward._

Her mind screamed at her, and she immediately straightened her spine, slightly offended.

But again, that word held true. She would be alone without Ulrich someday, be it sooner or later, and she would need to learn to keep watch for her own safety by her own skill. Surely it could not be so difficult. Ulrich appeared relaxed in every situation, but he had never been caught off his guard.

She supposed it was time for her to begin acting independently and watching out for her own self.

Her brow knit together, trying to think of what Ulrich had done in the past, in crowded taverns when they were able to take their supper in town.

He had always looked around the room for any suspicious peoples. Sometimes, he would even point them out to her, telling her to keep watch with him.

So that was what the young woman did, thoroughly scanning the room for any sort of ill-looking creature.

She found only three men, two of which seemed to keep their secrets to themselves, and did not seem to be bothered with the other company in the tavern, and the third...she could not place her caution. He was hooded yet, did not seem threatening, only shrouded in mystery.

She would keep an eye on those three however, the small hobbits milling about made her curious to a fault.

The girl was quite attentive to three hobbits especially. They had an innocence and gaiety that permeated their spirits and seemed raised her own as well, allowing her to relax and enjoy the surroundings. She felt quite drawn to the one that seemed to keep more to his own self, watching his friends in amusement as they told their stories. Yet, for one reason or another, he refused to join in their talk.

Before she realized what was happening, she had slipped into the seat across from the smallfolk, words of introduction already spilling from her mouth before she could stop them.

"I am Evelyn."

He seemed almost surprised at her abrupt words, and did not readily reply.

From that reaction, she felt her face burn at her rudeness, feeling slightly embarrassed at her over-eagerness. "Please, give me your pardon, for I did not mean to startle you. I was rather excited to meet your acquaintance for your kind fascinates me."

At that, he immediately warmed, and took a small half-bow as best he could whilst sitting down. "The pleasure is all mine, lady. I am Underhill. I would gladly answer to your questions."

Evelyn brightened visibly, thoughts and musings already rolling off her lips like a boulder falling down a mountain, gaining speed as it went. Underhill matched her words with his, keeping pace with her very well.

She lost track of where she was and of the caution she should have kept with vigilance.

Their talk eventually wandered over to his friends, where they stopped for a bit, listening to Pippin spin his tale of an old hobbit and his last birthday party.

This story made Underhill agitated, but the girl saw that he covered it well, jumping on the table and calling attention to his own self as he did so.

She did not want this attention. She sat much too close to the center of attention and would most surely be noticed.

Quickly, she left their table, settling in the corner, where the half-shadows covered her well. However, she did not know that the table had already been occupied.

Her gaze was fixed on the hobbit she had spoken to, and he began to sing and dance, much to the pleasure of the other guests in the tavern.

"It is a strange thing to come across a lone woman amongst so many strange men."

A voice spoke clearly but softly behind her, and she spun around, fear finding light in her eyes. She felt her hand stray to the dagger by her hip. "What do you want?"

"Nothing but to ask of the conversation you had with Mr. Underhill."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Your words belie your intentions, sir. 'Tis none of your business."

"Of that you are incorrect. Mr. Underhill and I are acquainted. I merely wish to inquire after his safety."

She could see little of his face, for the hood darkened the shadows cast upon his face from where he sat. Nothing could be seen, and his intentions were well-hidden despite what she had spoken earlier. This was also the man that held an air of mystery, and little but what he divulged from his own choice could be understood.

"You need not be worried of who I am. It should be the other way around." She marveled at the way her voice held steel, and bravery she did not feel inside.

"Well," The hooded man pushed his cloak back. "There is no need to be wary of me. I am a friend, not a foe."

At the sight of his shaggy, weather-beaten face, Evelyn no longer felt the foreboding of danger. His appearance reminded her of Ulrich, for the many days they lived journeying through the wilderness reduced him to such a look as well.

At that thought, she released her iron grip on her weapon and laid her hands on the table, folding them together almost demurely.

"I wished to know of the ways of hobbits. They are very strange creatures, and my curiosity bested me."

His eyes twinkled in amusement. "Aye, that it did. I am Strider, lady. And what is your name?" His kind manner most surprised her. The quick change from hostile to pleasant was a rather abrupt.

"Evelyn."

Her hand clasped his arm, as a sign of friendship.

"Now if you would excuse me Strider, but I wish to watch the last of Mr. Underhill's performance," She gave him a mock-glare and turned around.

She was just in time to see the hobbit fall from the table and vanish.

A gasp left her lips as she froze in place from shock. Something was wrong.

She felt a sinister chill crawl up her back. A darkness began swirling about, one which had quickly appeared when chill had settled inside of her, making her blood run cold. It centered upon the place where Mr. Underhill had vanished, then slowly crept across the room coming towards the corner in which she sat.

She was horrified, feeling the mist grab at her cloak, tendrils slowly crawling up her legs. Evelyn wanted to scream, but she could not, feeling as though she were engulfed in water, trying and failing to move, to speak.

Her senses seemed dull from the strange things that had happened, and only her heartbeat thundered in her ears. There was a muffled droning in the background, but she could not put her finger on what it was, nor understand what was being said.

The surreal experience then disappeared as quickly as it had come to be.

"Oh Eru!"

She did not realize the frightened, wobbling voice was hers until a hand lighted on her shoulder.

She jumped, before she realized it was Strider.

"Are you well?" His grey eyes expressed rather sincere concern, and she was touched by his worry.

"Aye," She assured him. It was perhaps best if she kept what she saw and felt to her own self. No one would believe her when even she doubted what she saw. "I was dazed for a moment, and it has passed, thankfully."

If the man before her did not believe her, he gave no indication of it.

The girl glanced about the room, eyes landing on Mr. Underhill. He was standing by the hearth, speaking animatedly to Barliman, trying to convince him of one thing or another. Perhaps it was all a daydream, when her mind had wandered.

She had lingered far too long. The sun had left, replaced by her companion, the moon. She needed to see after Ulrich's health.

" 'Twas a pleasure meeting your acquaintance Mr. Strider, but I best be going." Evelyn flashed him a small smile before she departed, eyes downcast and hood hiding her face.

The dark had brought out some unsavory people, and her hand closed upon the hilt of her dagger, hidden from sight.

The evening had brought about too much trouble and worried her greatly, thought more pressing matters manifested in her thoughts, pushing aside what had happened just moments before.

xXx

The next few days disappeared quickly. Ulrich's condition was rapidly deteriorating and Evelyn knew that her worst fears were to come true very, very soon.

She was glad of one thing though: he had woken, and had spoken to her despite the state of his illness.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, carving meandering wet paths on her face before sprinkling the sheets which covered Ulrich like droplets of dew upon the wet earth.

"Don't cry, Evelyn." His voice was hoarse and it was clear that he was using too much effort to speak, let alone stay awake.

"Ulrich-"

"No." His hand sought hers, and she caught his large hand in her own, distraught. He was waning in his strength, and so quickly. She could hear only bits and pieces of what his lips seemed to be saying, for his words barely left his mouth before disappearing, snatched away by the air before it ever had hope of reaching her ears. "...growing evil...wary...The elves...love..."

She held herself, tensed. Her ear was close to his mouth, and she hoped, hoped, _hoped_, that she would feel breath tickling the inside of her ear, as it did when he spoke, or even when he was taking small, shallow breaths. He must be resting. He could not have...

She cut off that thought, stubbornly refusing to finish it. And so, she waited.

And waited.

And still waited.

At last, just before the first tear fell, she raised her head.

It was time for her to give up. Ulrich had passed from this world to the next.

And he had left her alone in this world.

She found could not breathe. Her lungs felt as stone, unable to move, and her throat had closed in on its own self. Why, why, _why_? It was her fault. Her own, that she had been left alone in this world. Where would she go? What would she do next? What _could_ she do? She was useless without Ulrich by her side. Why did he leave? She would not survive on her own.

Panic began shaking her body, and she dimly registered a high-pitched keening that grated on her ears, and flashes of red and black dot her vision, spreading slowly to encompass the entirety of her sight like fresh blood dripping from a deep cut, stubbornly pushing out of the broken skin, unable to be stopped.

What was happening?

* * *

A/N: A shout-out to AHealingRenaissance and a Spirited Mare for being lovely, awesome, hotmazing people and REVIEWING! Please please PLEASE review. Reviews feed me and make me a better person! Or writer! But its all the same thing :)

If any of you got confused, I made Chapter 1: Evelyn, a prologue instead, which is why this is now only chapter 2. You didn't miss anything if you've been keeping up with the story so far, no worries ^_^

~fubunny


	4. Chapter 3: Transitions

Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR, and especially that one squinty-eyed Southerner from Dunland. He's a wonderful character. Such a shame he's unnamed :(

**A Willful Heart  
Chapter 3: Transitions**

* * *

_"Mama, where is Papa?"_

_She could not understand. Why were they leaving? The villagers were mad at her and her mama, but they had done nothing wrong._

_And papa was not there to tell the angry villagers so._

_"Hush, child. We must leave. Papa has gone to Mandos and cannot return to us."_

_Why could not papa come back? Could not Mandos return her papa to her?_

_But Evelyn remained silent, knowing her mother was much too busy to answer such questions. She obediently put on her winter coat, despite the fair weather, and took the small satchels her mother had handed to her._

_She did not know where they were going._

_One sack was placed across her back and the other she held in her right hand, for her mother took hold of her left, squeezing it in reassurance._

_Evelyn didn't know if her mother had taken her hand to reassure her own self, or her child. All she knew was that her mama was frightened, very frightened._

_There was a large crowd that seemed to wait for their appearance outside their home. Almost all the villagers were there, and many of them were not happy. There was enough space for such a large crowd for they lived in the center of the village. The child did not understand why they were so angry. Most glared and spat at them, but some of them even threw rocks at her and her mama. It was fortunate that none struck their heads._

_Each time a stone struck her, she felt dull clamoring in her head. There was a sharp pain, but nothing was stronger or louder or hurt more than the confusion that ran about inside her. She valiantly tried to keep it silent within her, lest the villagers grew more incensed._

_Yet, what hurt the most was not the confusion. It was the screams that split the silence of the night, echoing eerily throughout the quiet and shattering whatever peace there was into thousands of little shards, unable to be mended._

_"Witch," they called her mama, "Sorceress," and "Servant of Evil."_

_How could they say those things? She knew her mama better than they did. Her mama was not at all what they said. She was kind and caring, and she healed people with her skill. She turned away no injured or ill from her home, and each villager had always returned to their families, cured and healthy._

_The crowd followed them, and it was not long before they reached the edge of the village. Night was growing and torches had been lit. Though there were many, and the weather was not yet chill, a chill still seeped through the people and the town._

_Evelyn didn't like it._

_She was glad she was leaving._

_"They do not want us, do they mama?"_

_Her mother looked down at her, tears glistening in her eyes. They did not fall as she furrowed her brow and smiled bitterly. "No, Evelyn. They do not."_

xXx

It was dark.

Everything was dark.

She felt warm and safe, as though floating amidst clouds in the sky, without a care in the world. Here she felt secure, and here she wished to stay for all eternity. But she knew there was something wrong. She was not meant to be here, floating without a care in the world.

There was more for her out there.

Evelyn felt her body convulse, coughs wracking her frame powerfully, over and over. It was as though life had seeped back into her body, and it had thrown her into motion.

Her eyes snapped open.

She knew where she was. It was familiar. Though her vision was blurred, she knew it was the place she had remained for several months, caring for someone.

Ulrich.

The name brought everything into sharp detail, pain again settling, making her heart ache and squeeze. It brought her back to the reality she had left when all had turned to utter darkness, when her world had spiraled out of control and all she could do was lay down passively, like a lamb to the slaughter, hoping to wish it all away.

Her subconscious had given her a reprieve, though one too short to mend little but her physical health.

It was too soon.

She closed her eyes, unable to remain awake. The swirling thoughts had drained her of whatever strength she had recovered, and it was now time to slip back into the welcoming darkness.

It was a shame that her dreams would not leave her be.

xXx

_Her mama would be a little angry. She had stayed out far too long spying on a rabbit go about his evening._

_She had also strayed farther than her mother would have liked._

_No matter. Her mother would still give her a portion of her supper, though it would be smaller as punishment._

_Before she even glimpsed the cabin, the girl already knew something terrible had happened._

_The wind told her of a death._

_It frightened her to the point where she hesitated where she was, just barely able to glimpse the home from the shadows of the forest, hiding behind a thick tree in the darkness._

_The forest was eerily quiet._

_It was fortunate she had hidden from view, for a stranger had stepped out the door, with a knife drawn and glinting maliciously in the moonlight. He had something large thrown across his shoulders._

_Blood dripped down the weapon, still sticky and fresh._

_It wasn't until he stepped out from under the shadows of the cabin that she saw him for what he really was._

It_ was terrifying, and she had never before seen the likes of it. Mama said to cherish all things living, but this thing? It was unspeakable to even tolerate the sight of it!_

_When they had lived in the village, she had heard the menfolk speak of evil creatures and the children try to scare one another, pretending to be such monsters._

_Orcs._

_Evelyn felt as though roots had grown from her feet, winding its way into the ground and forcing her to remain where she was. She could not move her legs, or seem to tear her eyes away from the monster._

_It had her mama that she could see, but she was too terrified, too frightened, to do naught but stare in horror at the sight laid bare before her eyes._

_Its lone eye—for the other was missing—seemed to catch the sight of her hiding in the tree-line, and yet, it seemed that the thing did not, for it continued on its way eastward._

_It was bigger than a man and looked stronger than a horse._

_If it had seen her..._

_The little girl shuddered, unable to finish the thought._

_She waited for what seemed like eons before she felt her own self take a halting step, willing her feet to take her back into the cabin. It was, after all, still her home, for it was the one that she had lived in with her mama all these years._

_Little was changed, but Evelyn took no notice._

_It was the large puddle of blood that transfixed her._

_There was so much._

_There was too much._

_Even at her young age, the little girl knew that her mama...her mama was gone. She had gone to stay with Mandos and be with papa._

_She let no tears fall from her eyes._

_A gasping shudder made its way past her lips as her small hands clenched into fists. There was a glint of steel in her gaze as she looked upon what had been her home. Though little had changed visibly, what was most important was stolen from her._

_They would pay._

xXx

A groan pierced the silence, and Althea looked up, not at all surprised that the girl had come about earlier than expected. She was, after all, young, and the older woman felt an inner strength radiating from her that separated the girl from others.

"You have been asleep for three days, child."

The older woman knew what she had said had registered in the girl's mind, for she furrowed her brow at the sound of Althea's voice.

"It is best if you sleep for another day or two."

The healer knew this would rouse the girl fully. She was sure a student of Ulrich's would not remain idle for so long, not when there was much the child could do.

Just as she had predicted, Evelyn raised her body and slumped over, still weary.

The dream she had woken from was still fresh in her mind. In the time which she had traveled with Ulrich, she had almost forgotten about it.

Her past.

It was most surely for the better that she was reminded of it, for now two of her loved ones had died by the hands of those vile creatures.

Perhaps the dream had been sent by Eru, to remind her of her vow, the vow she had made to her own self.

_They would pay_.

It echoed about in her mind, growing louder and louder, until all else was drowned out. It was this she had sworn from which she would draw strength.

Yes.

Every last orc would pay for bringing such darkness and sorrow upon innocents. She would do everything she could to end the lives of these sickening creatures.

They were abominations, unfit to live.

"No." Although her throat ached from the moisture it lacked, her voice rang clear and resolute in the small room.

"It is time for me to take my leave."

xXx

"Are you certain you will be fine?"

"Aye, Althea." Evelyn's eyes sparkled with warmth and sincere thanks, knowing the woman was not one to show such concern to an almost-stranger.

"And…you will be careful?" The healer's eyes were stern but those words showed a deep concern for the younger woman's safety.

Evelyn embraced her, speaking reassuringly, "Aye dear Althea. You need not worry. Moreover, you have my thanks for your care to first Ulrich and then my own self."

The older woman's eyes glistened with unshed tears. She raised her hand and touched the red-haired woman's brow. "Child, you are most welcome here. Never forget that."

All Evelyn could do was nod at the older woman's words, thankful that there would be someplace she could return to if there was no place else to go.

She swung up and situated herself on the horse's back, tugging at her clothes to straighten them as well as throwing the hood of her cloak over her head. It was best to hold some semblance of secrecy.

A sable mare had been acquired from a merchant who had arrived just that morn, and it was fortunate that the seller had sold the animal for cheap. He said the mare had been with him for far too long; it was too spirited and no one had yet been willing to buy.

Using her knees to gently nudge the animal into motion, she turned the mare eastwards.

Perhaps it was the burning desire for justice which drove her foolish actions, for she wished to head to Mordor by her own strength to deal upon them the justice they so deserved.

And she wished to do it alone.

xXx

The first eight days of travel were uneventful. Though she had journeyed quite a ways from Bree, loneliness stabbed repeatedly at her heart.

She could not grow used to the clothing and weapons as well. They were Ulrich's, and she knew it would have been his wish to give them to her once he had left or retired.

The blade was well-maintained, sharp, with Sindarin etched into the glittering metal. Ulrich had once told her the meaning of it, many years past, but she could no longer recall what he said. Though she was well-versed in the speech of the elves, she could read little of their writings. The hilt, made of Mithril, was well worn, but beautifully crafted. Thin and elegant, wrapped in thin black leather, it had been smoothed to perfection by Ulrich's hands.

He had left her his bow and the few arrows he had left. He had taught her how to fletch arrows, and she would make some when she found a suitable tree.

The red-haired woman had taken his bag as well, for it was larger than her own and contained his personal affects, things she could not bear to leave behind. He had kept a journal containing the very Sindarin she could not read. Thought, Evelyn supposed, it was not her place to read such private thoughts anyway.

With Ulrich's weapons coupled with her own—a dagger the length of her forearm and one which was hidden snugly in her boot, Evelyn felt ready for war.

It was a shame her mentor's weapon was unsuitable for her to wield. For it was, after all, much too lengthy and cumbersome for her size and stature. The sword was currently strapped securely across her back, incessantly reminding her of its foreign presence as it bumped her thigh which each step the animal took.

xXx

It was midday when she decided to settle for a rest.

The reason was not because Evelyn was tired, and it was certainly not the usual time of day she stopped, however, she had found a young tree appropriate for fletching arrows.

It was not very far from the East road, but far enough away that she would have time to respond to an attack from one off the road.

With the larger dagger, she cut off a sturdy branch, and with the smaller one, she began forming the shaft.

The branch she had cut down would produce a good amount of arrows, but the process could take more than a day, even with the speed she had from experience. Ulrich had not spared mercy each time he had run out of arrows. He had always made her replenish his supply once she had learned how to make them properly. He had too keen of an eye, throwing out the ones that did not meet his expectations and ordering her to replace them.

The memory made the young woman smile, and she was now thankful for his strict manner.

As her thoughts wandered, Evelyn became so absorbed in her work that no longer stayed attentive to her surroundings. She failed to notice the appearance of another man on the road.

It was not until two feet were planted before her that she jerked her face up, hand clenching harder around the small dagger in her hand while her body tensed, ready for a fight.

Fortunately, the man before her did not seem interested in fighting.

He was a Southerner, the girl judged, by the looks of his dark skin and dress. The squint-eyes he had drew her attention, for they allowed his whole person to become shifty, as though not able to be trusted. He was old, with his snowy white hair let wild about his shoulders, and wrinkles lining deep across his face.

The stranger held the reigns of his horse loosely in his left hand while the other lay motionless by his side.

"I have feathers for those arrows if you would like them." The man's voice was deep and rich, coated with a strange accent.

Evelyn felt her body slowly unwind at his words. His words showed no ill intent, and he did not seem unfriendly.

"What is your cost?"

The man gave a wry smile, "Nothing but the companionship of another traveler. The days are growing darker, and evil seems to be growing. It is no longer safe for a man to travel alone on the road."

"Aye, that it is." The young woman was no fool to the growing numbers of foul beasts prowling the lands.

It was Ulrich that had kept her safe until now. She had not had the pleasure of sleep for several days, so perhaps it was best to have a companion to help her keep watch over the nights.

"To where do you travel?"

"I make my way towards the misty mountains. There is a village that lies to the south of the East-West Road, by the river Bruinen."

She smiled. Aye, he would make a fine companion. It would take another fortnight to get to the Misty Mountains, and he would leave even before she reached them. His companionship would allow her to rest, but the temporary circumstance would not allow him too much time to pry into her business.

"I would appreciate some companionship as well." She smiled and stuck out her arm, which the Southerner took and grasped.

"I am Rabe."

"And I, Eadrik."

* * *

A/N: Hahahahaha appreciate the ending? I hope you guys get what happened. Pretty obvious, but if you didn't, that's a dude's name and she's a girl, but she's hiding her identity now cuz creepers will more likely creep on females than guys. If you disagree, you're entitled to your own opinion x)

And, by the way, I know nothing about arrow-making, so if any of you wanna enlighten me, or I wrote something horribly incorrect, feel free to enlighten me so I can fix it!

I hope ya'll like it! Please review review review! They're my food source, and I need food :( don't starve me.

~fubunny


	5. Chapter 4: Treachery

Disclaimer: I am not the genius Tolkien was. But I do own the lovely main character and Ulrich :)

**A Willful Heart  
Chapter 4: Treachery**

* * *

The journey, to Evelyn's fortune, was rather pleasant, though she could not put her finger on why she felt uncomfortable with the man. He had done nothing to draw suspicion and raise distrust.

Only the opposite, in fact.

Though Rabe had a rather strange appearance, with his disfigured face and squinted eyes, he did not pry into her business any more than she did to him.

They had traveled together for almost eleven days, and by then, Evelyn was very thankful for his presence, both for companionship and mutual protection.

He had teased her quite frequently about her looks, for she seemed to be only a boy, one who had not even seen seventeen winters. It was quite amusing that he continually bothered Evelyn due to her appearance whilst his were even more ludicrous.

Yet the only thing that the girl held serious concern for was that he did not suspect any more than than boyish looks. Nor did he care for a deeper explanation other than the one she had already given: why she wished to journey to the Misty Mountains.

She had told him that she intended to go visit an ailing uncle and work in his stead during his time of illness.

Her explanation seemed very flimsy, for the red-haired girl was carrying one too many weapons to be a peasant's son traveling to extended family. Yet, the Dunlander did not question it.

For that, Evelyn thanked the gods.

At that moment, they had stopped to take a small break. Between the two of them, they had a great variety of food-stuff. He had carried dried fruits and venison for the journey, while she had used her skill with gathering from the land and hunting to bring for them fresh food.

She had been fortunate to hit a bird from the sky, though she had required three attempts to hit the prey.

He had pulled off the feathers and prepared the animal while she had gathered firewood.

They were now sitting about the fire, arguing over the slow change and the growing evil while finishing off the fowl. The topic had arisen when he had woken her in the middle of the night to flee from a band of orcs that had passed by on the road.

The circumstance had not been spoken of until now.

"The orcs are of little issue here to the west of the Misty Mountains."

"That is not true. There have been a greater number of attacks on villages this year than there have in the past."

His eyes narrowed, making him look almost comical with his doubtful stare pinned on her face. " 'Tis true. Perhaps you have lived far too long on your farm to hear of real news. I have journeyed far and have heard little."

His jab at where she had come from did not slip past her defenses. She would tread carefully, though she wished to win this argument. Glaring, she conceded. "Perhaps you are right."

"Don't get cheeky with me, boy!" The man before her gave out a loud bellow of a laugh, slapping her back as hard as he could with his hand, almost making her topple over from the force of it. "Respect your elders! Or has your mother not taught you better!"

"I do believe respect must be earned." She smiled at his mirth, despite the sting she still felt from the force of his hand.

Rabe could not reply, doubling over in laughter at what she had spoken. It was in this time that she missed Ulrich's presence the most, for though he had laughed little, he had his own sense of humor which made her laugh as gaily as Rabe did now.

Once the Dunlander's mirth died, they sat for a while in comfortable silence, quickly finishing their meal before mounting their horses, setting off once again.

xXx

"Don't be shy! Come Eadrik, get in the water!"

They had finally arrived at the first river Hoarwell, where the East-West Road led onto the Last Bridge.

They did not arrive at the river by the road though, for Rabe knew of a shallow bend in the water far enough from the road that no traveler would stumble upon them, but near enough where they could easily make quick headway to the East-West Road if necessary.

She desperately wanted a bath, for she had not bathed in what seemed like years, and the dirt that had settled on her skin while her clothes had begun to streak and smell.

But she couldn't.

"I am clean. There is no need to fuss over the dirt on my body, Rabe. And I am sure that I have less dirt on me that you did. When on earth did you last bathe?"

It was true. The man was tan, but the dust which had settled across his skin made him darker than she realized. He was actually quite fair.

"Stop making excuses! You are just as dirty as I am!"

Moreover, she did not want to bathe with a man.

She ignored his calls, responding only that she would keep watch in the time that he was naked and vulnerable.

Fortunately, Rabe had ceased his shouting, and there was some peace. Evelyn settled against the tree, watching the road from where she sat, looking westwards to where they had come.

The sun was setting, and for that she was thankful. For when she had spoken to Rabe before, he had stood up, exposing himself in his ignorance. Thank Eru for the shadows that were cast about the night; they were thick and dark. She had barely been able to make out the lines of his face much less anything further south on his body.

The girl was glad she had steeled her own self not to flinch before he noticed her discomfort. For, if she had done so, he would have surely questioned her actions. Moreover, she would have been too embarrassed by his incessant teasing that would absolutely come to pass even if he suspected naught. _Then_ he would notice something; Rabe was no fool, though he actions might have indicated otherwise.

A large hand clamped on her shoulder, and she jumped in her surprise.

In the dim light, she saw his face leer down at her, smirking gleefully in his success in frightening her. She felt her muscles coil and tense, uncomfortable with their proximity.

To her annoyance, the Dunlander's hair dripped onto her face and neck, while the water left on his hand seeped into her shirt.

She did not doubt that he had done so purposefully.

"You may go take your bath in private now, your highness."

He gave a mocking bow, laughing heartily as he did so. Then he added in a more sincere tone, "I understand if you were uncomfortable. It is likely you are not used to exposing your own self to almost-strangers. So go, have your bath and I will keep watch. Do not worry," He winked in playful emphasis. "I will not look, for you are not a fair maiden worth risking my skin for a peek."

He pushed her towards the river, taking her place by the tree while he hummed a tuneless song to his own self.

Yes, he was kind under his crude exterior, wishing her instinct would cease its clamoring. She could not understand why she felt such unease with a man such as Rabe.

Shaking her head and clearing it from her thoughts, she quickly stripped before slipping into the cool waters, relieved to finally wash the dirt and grime from her skin.

It was a shame Evelyn did not catch his sly glance in her direction.

xXx

They reached the second river, Buinen, within three days of finding Haorwell.

In those three days, Evelyn saw a slight shift in Rabe's character. He seemed much more quiet and reserved than he had been before. His expressions even took on a darker look, and it frightened her, setting the girl on edge and making her short-tempered, moreso than usual.

His departure would most certainly bring comfort to her restless instincts, though loneliness would most surely seep into her heart again.

With these thoughts, the young woman did not, in all her caution, think that Rabe would betray her. The unease that had stirred her heart and had continued to do so should have prepared her for when he made his treacherous move.

"Eadrik, I believe you are forgetting something of importance." Rabe's face was shadowed, and his squinted eyes stared at her, boring uncomfortably into her body.

The young woman looked at the disfigured man before her, carefully going through the few things she had in her mind, whilst wondering why he would bring such a thing to her attention. She was quite careful with the placement and keeping of her things. Surely he knew that by now.

Then it dawned on her.

Ulrich's sword.

Her eyes narrowed, and she realized, in that moment, that her instinct had been right.

Rabe could not be trusted.

"Where is it?"

The Dunlander gave out a harsh laugh, one which grated on her ears, but was much the same as those he had bellowed out so amiably in her company before. She could not believe she had allowed her defenses to fall so low that she would trust someone who so obviously could not be trusted.

She would not be so foolish as to do so again.

Evelyn made the first move, charging at the man before her. The knife which she always wore by her hip slipped out of its sheath, clenched loosely but firmly in her hand, just as Ulrich had taught her. The weapon flashed dangerously in the sun, as though warning her opponent to be wary.

He was, and it was quite unfortunate that Evelyn herself was not. She was overconfident, assuming that because the man did not have a weapon to defend himself, he would stand no chance.

The fight was over before she realized it.

In the span of one moment, he had knocked the dagger from her hand, and held her against him, a blade drawn, biting into her neck threateningly.

"Be a good girl and listen to me."

Nervous sweat trickled down her brow, running down the side of her face, and dripping slowly down her neck. The red-haired woman swallowed, feeling her saliva stick to her throat, unable to continue its journey farther down.

If Ulrich had been here, none of this would have happened.

Silently, Evelyn cursed her own foolishness. The strength which she had so much of before suddenly disappeared and her legs bent, shivering in their struggle not to crumple.

"You will listen and you will do all as I say." The man behind her squeezed tighter until she felt her lungs collapsing under the pressure. The sword pressed harder as well, and she felt the warmth of her own blood make its way down her neck, following the path of the bead of sweat before it.

"You will go and spy on Rivendell for me. Those halflings and the ranger have been seen making their way in that direction, and I must know what they are planning. You will report back in seven days, and if you do not, or if you intend to kill me to reclaim your property, you will die by your own sword."

With a hard shove, Rabe released her in the direction of the elven kingdom, and she fell to the ground, coughing and wheezing at the harsh treatment he gave her. It was frightening, the unexpected change in dimeanor, and she had no doubt that he would do exactly as he said he would if she disobeyed.

He gave her a malicious smile, his height looming over her own bent, defeated form on the ground. He was staring intently at Ulrich's sword, inspecting the craft.

"I have little doubt that you will most surely attempt to reclaim your sword. It will be amusing to watch you struggle and die in such a pitiful way, betrayed by your own weapon. It is well-crafted, seemingly by elvish means, though it has been through many a battle. Rather than sell it, perhaps I will keep it as my own."

His gaze flicked to her as his lip curled in disgust. "Such a beautiful weapon would have gone to waste in the possession of a girl who cannot even wield it."

His eyes once again found her form and focusing on her, he lashed out, kicking as hard as he could.

Air was forcibly pushed out from her body, and she bit back a groan, knowing her stomach would bruise. What are you still doing there lazing about? Get going!"

Evelyn turned tail and ran, hearing his harsh laughter at her fear echoing behind her, chasing and mocking her in her flight.

xXx

The journey to Imlandris was one frought with terror.

She remembered nothing from the travel but her inner turmoil. The red-haired woman had run the entire way to the elven kingdom, and it was fortunate for her that she had not been seen in her flight; she had not been in her right mind.

Thank Eru that she had calmed before she did something she could not take back, such as run into Imladris as though all of Mordor had been unleashed at her heels. Evelyn slowed to a walk just before she reached the guarded gates of the elven city, hiding before her presence was seen.

If she had not, she would have run into the guards, and all hope for entering and leaving without notice would be lost.

Evelyn crumpled to the ground, relieved she had put enough distance between her and that deceiver.

Moreover, she had reached her destination, though not without cost.

Exhaustion had hit her quickly, like a large tide in stormy waters, crippling her to the point where she could no longer stand. Her flight and the intense fear she had felt drained her of all the strength that she had.

Gathering information would have to wait until the morrow, for she could not remain vigilant in the state she was in to work effectively.

Laying down right where she fell, her consciousness slowly drifted away, darkness overtaking her.

xXx

The next four days were, for the most part, uneventful.

Ulrich had taught her stealth, and she took the first night to walk along the outside of the city, mapping out the routes by which she could easily slip in and out without notice. The task had taken the whole night, and she had slept under a heavy thicket once she had finished, taking care to be hidden to reduce the chances of being discovered.

In the second and third nights, she had slipped into the city itself, scaling the wall and slipping down on the other side, silent as a wraith. No one had noticed her, for her attire was dark, allowing her to blend well with the color of night.

She had been able to study the interior of Imladris thoroughly, and in those two days, knew every nook and cranny of the city as though it were the lines on her face. She had especially taken care to note those places which she could hide, and routes she could use to escape notice.

Although it had been exhilerating to do this alone, without Ulrich shadowing her every move, contemplating the consequences of being found frightened her. This was not at all like those times which Ulrich had caught her in her training. If she failed, it was likely she would be unable to escape. No one but Rabe would come after her, and in the slight chance he chose to help her escape the elves, she would still face his wrath for her failure.

It was during the third night where she had almost been seen.

An elf with golden hair that shone even in the darkness of night had walked past her, almost as if gliding along the surface of the earth in his grace.

He was beautiful.

She wondered why he was still awake in the dead of night, and it was in that moment that she had stepped in a twig, causing it to break under the weight of her foot.

The sound had been deafening in the silence of the night.

As she froze, she saw in growing horror as he slowly turned his head and looked straight in her direction curiously.

Evelyn had remained as still as she could, just as her mentor had taught her, though her mind screamed to run, to flee.

She felt as though she had stayed still for hours.

At last, she heard his departure, and she gave a sigh of relief, lungs taking in air greedily; she had forgotten to breathe in that tense moment.

She supposed he had not seen her, for though he had looked towards her for a longer time than expected, he did turn away and leave in the direction he had been heading.

The rest of the night bled into early morn, and there were no other disturbances in her mission.

It was on the fourth day that she began shadowing the city's inhabitants. She did not particularly like eavesdropping, but she knew it was necessary to do so. The faster she finished this assignment, the more time she had to plan for the meeting with Rabe. She disliked the man and would not give any more information than the barest necessity to get Ulrich's sword returned and in her possession once again.

Moreover, she would not be so foolish as to let another take it again whilst she was unaware.

It was early evening when she glimpsed a familiar face.

Strider.

His hair was still wild about his head, but it seemed that he had trimmed his beard and smoothed it down. He had changed into a much nicer tunic as well, and she took note that he still carried a small dagger by his hip.

Furthermore, what surprised Evelyn was that he was with an elven maiden.

The elf beside him was beautiful.

It was beauty like none she had seen before, for it had otherworldly qualities that seemed to allow the she-elf to radiate her own light and warmth. She had flawless, creamy skin and dark brown hair that came down in endless waves, flowing over her form like silk. Her form was encased in the soft material of the elves, a wonderfully crafted gown that hid her feet even as she walked. Her tall and lithe form held her head high in a regal way, and despite the maiden's height, she was impossibly graceful.

Evelyn was jealous, but she supposed that is was only natural that elves were much more...everything than humans were. More graceful, more beautiful, and more knowledgeable.

It was a shame she was only human, the girl mused quietly.

Strider walked beside her, talking quietly. She could make out little of what was being said, but she was content on just watching the breathtaking she-elf move so fluidly.

The two made their way towards her slowly, too entranced by each other to notice an addition to their surroundings. She was spying on their movement from the branches of a tree, and she had been there for quite a while before they had arrived in the gardens.

The young woman was glad that she had been fortunate to find such a nice tree, with low hanging branches to be close enough to hear talk, so long as her quarry was under her tree.

"-council with Elrond?"

"Aye, 'twill be in two days at ten o' clock in the morn. Frodo will be there as will all those representing each race and dominion."

The maiden beside him took on a small frown. " 'Tis a shame that my father will not allow me entrance to the meeting."

"_Mela en' coiamin*,_" the ranger reached out and clasped the hand of his companion between his own. " 'Tis for the better. The meeting will be long and tiring, with much argument on how to deal with the Enemy's weapon."

Evelyn wondered what was being spoken of. How could they have gotten their hands on such a thing? Surely what was being spoken of could not be just any weapon of the orcs.

The girl was eager to hear more information about this. She would most certainly go to that council, though she had no invitation.

Quietly, she slipped down the tree and melted into the surrounding shadows, making her way back to the borders of Imladris.

xXx

The next day the girl spent practicing and training.

Though she did not have Ulrich's sword with her, she could run through all the forms her mentor had taught her with her own dagger, as well as conditioning and improving her strength.

They would all do well to hone her abilities.

Although Ulrich was not with her to push her to breaking point, she was consistent in pushing her own self to her limits.

Anger drove her motivations, a fire which had sparked that morn, when she had realized Rabe had no power over her when he could not watch her.

The Dunlander would pay for his treachery, and she would not trust the words he had spoken six days ago. She suspected he would kill her once he had heard her report all the information she had gathered, though why she was doing his dirty work as well was beyond her own understanding.

Or perhaps she had not the time to think on it. Or did not want to think about it.

Until now.

She supposed it was all due to her curiosity. The red-haired girl had always been looking for trouble, and Ulrich had been quick to realize this flaw of hers in the first days they had met and begun their travels together.

Grudgingly, she also admitted that it was due to fear that she had begun the assignment. She had set out to do exactly what Rabe had ordered her to do, in foolish hope that he would give back what he had promised.

But now she understood the Dunlander's intentions clearly. It was best that she train now, so he would not best of her the next time they met. She would be ready for any of the underhanded tricks he had up his sleeve.

Evelyn continued training until dusk, exhausted and quivering from all the exertion as she lay down for some rest.

xXx

The girl cursed in her mind, incensed that she had slept longer than expected.

It was almost noon, and the girl wondered if she had missed anything important in her absence.

She knew where they were meeting, for in the days she had spent wandering the halls of the Last Homely house, she had stumbled upon several meetings already. Those however, covered politics and cultures of the elves, dwarves, and men, nothing she had taken interest in.

The gardens surrounding the council were dense, with many places to remain concealed.

Evelyn confidently crept forward, for in all the days which she had entered the grounds, the girl had not been caught. She settled comfortably on a low hanging branch, able to see the entirety of the council, as well as a certain hobbit, a companion of Mr. Underhill, who was hidden and eavesdropping as well.

It surprised Evelyn that they had traveled so far. The smallfolk seemed to have business among the elves, something which Evelyn could not fathom.

The two races and each one's business did not seem to mix.

She scanned the council, seeing the meeting had the presence of several races: dwarves, men, elves, and hobbits, all coming together. They must be discussing the fate of Middle-Earth if all races of Eru were involved. She recognized the familiar faces of Underhill and Strider, as well as the golden-haired elf that had almost caught her a couple nights ago.

The girl wondered who he was, for the male elf seemed not to be of Imladris.

Blinking several times, she cleared her head, focusing intently on what was being spoken. It seemed they had just finished their break for the noonday meal.

xXx

The meeting was long with little to bring but bad tidings, yet Legolas felt honored and fortunate to hear news all across Middle-Earth of the spreading evil.

He was glad he was a part of this, in order to aid this land in stopping the threat.

Before the intermittent break for the noon meal, they had sat listening to Elrond discuss the history of Middle-Earth, a history which he knew well, having been told it centuries ago by his father and tutors.

He was well-learned in his history.

Then came Boromir, the son of the steward who came seeking knowledge of what plagued the dreams of his father, and to find a way to quell the rising evil in the East. The elven prince sympathized with the man, for his own kingdom had been plunged in darkness for many a year without reprieve.

The discussion soon turned its path, revolving around the One Ring. Stories of how it came into the possession of a hobbit, who had then passed it onto yet another, came to pass.

Before the history of the One Ring was told, argument on how to dispose of it already began.

Fortunately, Elrond was able to make peace before tension broke, for Legolas knew the time was not yet ready for such an important subject to be broached.

As history came to rest on Gollum, Legolas noted that it would soon be his turn to speak. He cringed when Aragon spoke his thoughts, for the ranger was relieved the gangly creature was safely kept by the watchful Elves of Mirkwood.

His lips parted in an utterance of distress, "Alas! Alas! The tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told. They are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to this company. Smégol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped."

He felt a pang of shame in his heart, for being unable to be more vigilant in keeping watch. Nevertheless, the elf continued with his tale of how Gollum had escaped.

Once he had finished, it was Gandalf who continued the discussion, moving on to how he was unable to meet with Frodo at the appointed place due to complications with the head of his Order.

It seemed Saruman had betrayed them.

The wizard's speech neared its end, and the question again rose, bringing with it, much tension amongst the members.

What must be done with the Ring?

Several ideas were propositioned, some worse than others. Through the information that had been thoroughly revealed prior to this discussion enabled the prince to know that each proposition would not suffice.

It pained Legolas to see each suggestion fail, and yet, he knew as well that none could do. There was reason in each counter to every suggestion.

Using the Ring or hiding the Ring would only prolong their demise. Yet it was an impossible task to destroy it.

The thoughts of the Mirkwood elf were disturbed when the branch above the halflings shuddered a miniscule amount.

He mused that a squirrel had caused the branch to tremble, but then realized, such animals were weightless and fluid in their movement.

The elf strained to see between the branches, just barely making out the figure of a human or elf. It was strange, and he first thought it to be a trick of the light, but the more he looked, the more assured he was of an uninvited guest.

The Mirkwood prince wondered whether the figure was friend or foe. Surely it was not possible for the Enemy to enter the city of Imaldris without being seen, for orcs left in their wake the stench of death, and the men of Sauron were loud and clumsy.

He did not wish to alert the others of the council, else the figure might escape during the panic among the members present.

So Legolas made his decision.

He would wait until the meeting had finished before he discovered the identity of the spy.

Surely they would wait until the council had ended before taking leave.

It was in the last words of Elrond when he began listening once more.

The elf's implications rang clear in his sharp ears, for everyone grew silent once Bilbo had finished his blustering. No one dared to take the Ring on a journey to its destruction.

Silence reigned, and all the while he stared discreetly into the shadows which hid the figure.

He had known long before that he could not bear the burden of such evil. It was not his responsibility, though he would not be opposed to journeying with the bearer of the Ring, lending his skill and prowess with the bow.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor."

Legolas snapped his eyes to the one who spoke.

Frodo had been clear and unwavering in his speech, but the hesitance in his stormy blue eyes betrayed him. They expressed great fear at the task ahead of him, and he hesitantly admitted his weakness before all.

"Though, I do not know the way."

The elven prince felt warmth seep through his limbs, in approval of the halfling's bravery.

The soft shudder of a tree's branches reminded him of his self-appointed task, eyes darting back to the tree which held an unknown presence.

The figure was still there, though movement along the branch indicated their quick departure.

He would have to move quickly as well in order to keep pace with the spy. It would not do to leave such vital information to chance. The possibility of its being given away to the Enemy was one that could not be had.

He quietly slipped away just as yet another hobbit revealed his own self to the council, adamantly demanding a role by the bearer in the journey ahead.

xXx

She knew that it was time to leave as she saw Mr. Underhill's companion reveal his own self and demand a place in the journey.

The girl slid off the branch she had lain on and began running, staying in the shadows of the trees and using the roads which few walked.

By the time she had reached the borders of the city and escaped, the sun was quite low in the sky, colors beginning to mark the start of dusk. Evelyn made her way back to the camp she had made for the few nights she had spent completing her assignment.

It had been cleaned for the most part, in assurance that no elf would stumble upon it and discover her by accident.

To anyone who did not know she had bedded here, it would seem as though uninhabited.

Her pack and bow had been stowed in the hollow of a tree, which the girl had fortunately found while climbing one in training. They had remained as she had left them, and she grabbed her possessions, setting off in a quick pace towards the river where Rabe's treachery had occured.

It would take a full day to reach the river if she ran, and she could not expend the energy necessary to fight the traitor and succeed.

xXx

Evelyn had stopped sometime during the night to eat and sleep.

She had reached Bruinen on the seventh day at the very start of dusk, the last rays of the sun giving her sight. Rabe was where he promised, waiting for her to return and give him the information he desired.

She noted with satisfaction that he had Ulrich's sword strapped to his belt, hanging beside his hip as she made her way warily towards the man who had betrayed her trust.

"I am here with what you want, Rabe. Give me my sword."

The girl walked into the open, shadows of the trees no longer hiding her in the dim light.

She could barely make out his face, though she could easily tell he was pleased.

"You will not receive payment until I hear what you have found."

Evelyn gave a low growl, frustrated that she would have to give him what he did not deserve.

It did not matter.

On the journey to the river, she had made up her mind to feed him false information. She was quite certain he would not know whether her words were truth or lies.

Nevertheless, her fingers itched closer to her dagger, hidden under the cloak she wore. She knew the Dunlander was watching her every move carefully.

"I have heard they intend to remain in Rivendell for a while. They believe Elrond will be able to stave off the tide of evil for quite some time before it must be moved."

It was unfortunate Evelyn let her tongue slip, giving away more information than she had attempted to imply.

Yet again, Rabe bested her, pinning her bodily against a thick oak.

The stench of his breath nauseated her as he rasped in her ear. "It would have been wise of you not to mention It. 'Tis a shame you did though, for now you are destined to die, little girl."

Something caught her eye and glinted to her left, indicating that the man before her had lifted a weapon, preparing to plunge it into a vulnerable and fatal part of her body.

Indignation rose in her, boiling her blood.

If she was to die because of her foolishness at the mercy of this snake, she would leave this world in defiance.

The ache for Ulrich's help was but a small nudge in her heart, as anger overcame it.

It no longer mattered that he was not here, because he was not. He was not here to aid her once again, nor was he here to chastise her for her mistake. It was obvious she could not fend for her own self, and she would die for her weakness.

But she would not leave this world piteously.

It was the least she could do for all Ulrich had done for her.

"Damn you."

Evelyn spit in his face, watching in satisfaction as the spittle trailed lazily down his cheek. And, she felt a surge of satisfaction as his face contorted into fury.

She saw the blade swing down, towards her unprotected neck.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys. Last chapter was kinda ehhhhhh, and I'm really sorry for that. I guess I ran out of creative brain juice, but now its back! I really hope you liked this chapter, because I sure as heck really enjoyed writing out the plot that suddenly popped in my head! Don't be afraid to tell me how you like it! (which means review, please!)

Also, I would like your input on whether or not Legolas should be her love interest too? And, although dear Haldir has yet to enter the story, an eventual love triangle perhaps?

*_Mela en' coiamin: _Love of my life

~fubunny


	6. Chapter 5: Forgetting

Disclaimer: I don't own this fantastic piece of work.  
A/N: Hey, its been...a little while longer than usual, but the wait hasn't been horribly long, right? I feel like no one's reading this because no one's reviewing and it just makes me horribly depressed :'( but THANKS AND VIRTUAL COOKIES to **AHealingRenaissance** for her loyalty in reviewing and opinion! She's a kool kat. with two k's which makes her even awesomer.

Anyways, without further ado, here is the next chapter!

**Chapter 5: Forgetting**

* * *

Legolas had left even before Elrond had dismissed the council.

He was glad for Sam's sudden appearance, for it was during the commotion that he was able to slip away unnoticed, rushing quickly to where the figure had left.

He had barely rounded a corner before he caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure disappearing from view, turning and becoming obscured by a few dense trees.

From what he could tell, the spy was quickly making headway towards the city's west border.

He trailed along after the unknown creature, wondering where they were going, or perhaps, who they were meeting.

His mind jumped quickly from one thought to another, quickly planning out the next course of action. He would need a weapon if he was to catch the spy. And he did not know how long he would be trailing after it.

Inwardly, the elf prince grimaced, disliking the fact that he was without his bow and arrows at the time. He had no time to retrieve them from his rooms, for he would most certainly lose his quarry if he were to depart from the trail now.

It was fortunate that fate was in his favor.

To the left, he spotted Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond, leisurely walking down the path. From the looks of it, they had been honing their skills at the shooting range.

Both twins had their bows slung over their shoulders, with their quivers hanging haphazardly from the backs.

They were laughing and joking, quite ignorant of his plight.

"_Vedui' (1)_" The Mirkwood prince forced himself to slow his gait, meeting the twins and bowing in greeting. They returned his gesture, but before the two troublemakers could launch into their newest tale, he quickly spoke up, in his haste to pursue the cloaked figure.

"_Amin hiraetha, mellonaemin (2)_" Legolas gave them an apologetic smile in emphasis, "But I require a bow and a quiver of arrows. There is a matter I must attend to with haste."

The two before him understood his urgent tone, and Elrohir quickly handed the Mirkwood elf his weapons. "_Quel marth. (3)_"

Nodding, the prince continued on his way, his pace growing faster as he realized his talk had left him farther behind the stranger than he had expected.

Tension and frustration began building and clamping on his throat until he, to the will of Eru, found his quarry once again.

The uninvited guest had been a young boy, he saw now, who had stopped to retrieve what seemed like his possessions—a bow and quiver, as well as a bag—from the hollow of a tree before leaving the small clearing he had lingered in.

Legolas suspected the child had slept here in the time he had remained to gather the information he required.

Keeping pace with the boy was not too difficult, for the spy had not noticed his presence. He remained at a brisk pace, though much slower than one he would have set if he knew there was one in pursuit.

The elf had taken to the trees, leaping from one branch to another as silent as a woodland squirrel. As an elf, it was expected that he was so graceful and nimble, but the figure below him was quite strange.

It unnerved the prince to hear little to no sound from the footsteps of the boy.

Men, he knew, did not have the lightest of feet, but this boy was different from all that he was told. Moreover, how a boy could have achieved such a light step and such grace was beyond his understanding.

The Mirkwood prince stared intently at the boy below him, hoping he would grow to understand the intentions of one so young once he saw what the boy was going to do.

It was late into the night when the young boy decided to rest. It had surprised Legolas for the tireless energy his quarry seemed to have fooled the prince into assuming the boy would journey without rest through the night.

He had decided to remain vigilant, meditating into the night and foregoing sleep. It would not do for him to slumber even as the spy had woken and continued on his travel.

xXx

It was dusk when the boy had finally slowed his gait; he seemed to be nearing a meeting place, for another stood fidgeting impatiently. The shadows were growing longer and darker, but that did not hinder the sight of the Mirkwood elf.

He stopped not to close to them, but close enough to gauge each male's face and hear their interactions.

Clearly the two were not companions.

The boy he had been following for almost a day and a half demanded the return of his weapon.

It was now that Legolas realized, the boy had just been caught in an unfortunate circumstance, threatened by a man who wished for another to do his work.

He felt his heart go out to the boy, though in alarm, strained to hear what the boy would tell his adversary. Surely the price of the weapon would be high, and the information the boy knew was priceless.

The elf felt his body sag in relief when lies spilled from the young man's mouth, only to tense when the elf realized that the boy had spoken of more than he should have. He had mentioned the weapon of the Enemy.

There was little doubt in his mind that the boy would die tonight, if none came to his aid.

Quickly, he drew a shaft from the borrowed quiver, nocking the arrow quickly whilst pulling the feathered end to his cheek, steadying his aim. From this distance, he was confident of hitting his target.

As he readied his weapon, the scene before him quickly turned violent. The boy was pushed, cornered between a large tree and the hostile body of the male before him.

The young man's adversary had spoken something in his ear, and to the prince's confusion, the man had spoken to the boy before him as though he were female.

A dagger was pulled out, and just before the boy was stabbed, his arrow found its mark.

xXx

It was a surprising turn of events when Evelyn discovered she was still alive and well, breathing and whole.

What shocked her even more was that, when she had opened her eyes, the first thing she focused on was the arrow protruding from Rabe's head.

Evelyn bit down a scream which threatened to tear through her throat, horror and fright surfacing at the scene before her.

Wide-eyed, she drew her dagger where it had lain forgotten by her hip as she slowly surveyed her surroundings, eyes darting about, trying to locate the unseen enemy.

She couldn't take any more of this. She was so frightened, so terrified.

All rationale had fled from her mind.

The moment she saw the movement of other being, she clutched her dagger, and ran towards them with speed she had never reached before.

As she swung her blade upwards, lashing out to cut through the flesh of his torso, he had jumped to the left, narrowly missing the edge of her blade.

Relentlessly she drove onwards, slashing wildly, only to miss time and time again. Ulrich's teachings had completely slipped her mind, and she was acting more by instinct, desperately pushing on in hopes that the man who threatened her would leave her be, that she could come to her senses again when she was safe and alone.

She did not want to escape the hands of one man only to be at the mercy of another.

She did not want to die.

Tears began blurring her vision as she, in one last desperate attempt, lunged at the man, arms outstretched and ready to claw out his eyes.

Then perhaps she could escape in a direction he would not see.

But fortunately, he had put a stop to her erratic actions, and she fell into darkness before her outstretched hands even reached the face of her enemy.

xXx

The boy, or girl, before him had surely lost his mind.

He felt mixture of pity and shock as he stood over the prone form of the one he had shadowed for over a day, considering what his next course of action would be.

It would not be in the child's best interest—or his—to abandon him. For when he awoke, he would be confused at his surroundings, only to grow frightened once again when his eyes found the body of his adversary with a shaft protruding from his head.

Nor could the boy be trusted. If the boy was to be brought back to Imladris, it was the responsibility of Legolas to ensure that he would not escape. Elrond would deal with the boy fairly once his story had been told.

For now, the wisest decision would be to bind the boy's limbs and carry him back to the city.

Legolas did just as he had considered, using the leather from the child's bag to bind his arms as well as his legs in a complicated series of knots and twists. It would take a while for the boy to undo such bindings. He also strapped the dagger of the boy onto his own belt, taking care to retrieve the sword the child had lost to the man now deceased.

He hefted the prone form onto his shoulder, taking care to gather all of the child's belongings as well.

The prince found it incredibly amusing that the body on his shoulder was much lighter than his belongings. He wondered how the boy could carry such heavy possessions without falling over.

There was little doubt in his mind that the man had spoken truth, and it was very likely that the boy on his shoulder was truly a woman; however, he did not feel the need to inquire after such a thing. If she wished to remain as a male, she must have her reasons. She seemed to be traveling alone, after all.

These musings were moreover, musings on what could be. He would continue to believe there remained on his should, a boy.

The elf began making his way back to the home of Elrond, taking off on a quick pace, eager to return to the city he was currently residing in.

xXx

"Who sent you?"

An elf she recognized as Elrond, the head of the council, circled her slowly, as a predator would its cornered prey.

He had not seemed so intimidating before, but now, with his eyes sharp and focused intently on her, cold seeping through his body, she realized he could be much more dangerous than she had previously assessed.

There were four others with him, all of whom were present at the council. Strider, the golden-haired elf, as well as the wizard.

The red-haired woman swallowed thickly, feeling her dry throat bob up and down, failing to allow the saliva smooth passage down her parched throat.

The girl was tired and she wanted nothing more than to lay in a bed and sleep.

But alas, that was not to happen.

She was currently secured to a chair, with chains and heavy elvish spells inhibiting movement.

They took great care to ensure that she would not escape. Though, there was nothing to hide.

"Rabe. I have nothing to hide, so please, let me go."

Though she pled her case, she would not beg or grovel. The girl held her head high, daring him to continue with his interrogation.

"And who is he?"

"A Dunlander. He had distinct features, disfigured, with squint-eyes."

It was Strider who then spoke, "Aye, I know who you speak of. He is companion to Bill Ferny, and was at the Prancing Pony." His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You are that woman, are you not? You wear her features."

Of course. The girl glowered inwardly. It would not have been possible for her to hide who she was from those who have seen her before.

"And if I am?"

The ranger's eyes flashed with disappointment before they hardened again. If she had looked away for but a moment, she would not have seen it.

"Then I would be a poor judge of character."

His words stung, but it was quickly soothed over by what the golden-haired elf spoke next.

"Nay, Aragorn." He cast a quick glance at her, eyes alight with curiosity. "She betrayed nothing. I have told you all of what I saw and heard. This girl, or boy, was caught only by unfortunate circumstances, and deceit."

Hope bloomed in her chest, and she felt warmth seeping into her limbs. It was surprising that this elf was so willing to defend her.

"Nevertheless," the wizard finally spoke, though he continued to study her almost as if seeing into her. "We must ensure ourselves that she is not an enemy."

Evelyn would be damned if she lay down and let them prepare her for slaughter.

"I am not. I seek vengeance for those whom I held dear."

Her words drew them in. If this were a different place and time, she would be amused by the power of curiosity.

"And who might these people be?"

"My mother, Gwynnethir. And my mentor, Ulrich." The young woman was glad that her voice did not waiver. She would show no weakness.

Strider made quick movement, arms settling heavily on her shoulders, as his eyes searched her own.

"Tell me of this Ulrich you speak of."

She was quite shocked at his urgency, but complied, taking her own pace as she drew words from her thoughts which did justice to the memory of her teacher and friend.

"He was…my mentor and companion. He took me in as an orphaned child, and he taught me many things, from wielding a blade to the art of healing. He spoke little, but was kind, and drove me hard in his teachings. And," she swallowed through the lump that was growing larger in her throat. "he is dead because of me."

"You are in possession of his sword?"

The girl nodded, unable to trust the words that would waiver and surely cause tears to fall.

The golden-haired elf took Strider aside and handed him the sword that had once been her mentor's. The man before her carefully unsheathed the weapon, holding it reverently before his eyes.

"She speaks truth."

The ranger knelt before her, sheathing the sword back in its place, and setting it gently on her lap. "Forgive us for doubting you, Evelyn."

The girl blinked rapidly, attempting to rid herself of her tears. As she cleared her throat, she forgave the man before her, as well as his companions.

For it was not man and elf that she held anger for. It was the dark king and his people.

"All is forgiven. But please, call me Eadrik."

xXx

Evelyn was tired of practicing on her own. She wished for companion to fight her, and it had been more than a fortnight since she had first appeared and boldly declared her intentions on the training grounds.

It was a shame none of the elves had taken her words seriously.

She had trained alone along the edge of the grounds, unperterbed by their rejection, and each day had continued as those before it with none willing to approach her, but with their curious eyes constantly watching her fluid movements.

It was this day that one decided to approach her, while she was halfway through her practice.

He was tall and lithe, with features strikingly familiar, yet quite different.

The elf, without introduction, proceeded to ask for a spar, and she had quickly agreed, more than happy to entertain him.

She knew he had been set up, though whether by bribe or bet, she knew not.

All she cared for was that this was a chance to prove her own self before these male elves.

A mediator, his brother she supposed, had stepped in to make it a more formal spar.

The rules were stipulated, and first to draw blood would win. For the fight, they had given her a small, blunt sword, one of elvish make. She was glad for it, for she had no true blade of her own.

A dagger would not suffice a true match, and they were fair enough to level the chances of her win.

As the mediator bled back into the ring of spectators, she bowed, as Ulrich had taught her to do before every match.

The elf before her had mirrored her movements as he acknowledged her politely.

Then it began.

He had immediately rushed forward, forcing her to begin the fight in a defensive stance, deflecting his blow with her own sword.

Due to the difference in height, she was forced to take his weight, as he pushed down on her painfully.

It was unfortunate for her opponent that she was used to such treatment from Ulrich. He had spared no mercy when she fought him.

It had taken all her strength to throw her weight forward, and though it had not been enough to push him away from her, the girl had been able to displace his weight.

The moment his weight was no longer on her was the moment she slipped out from under him, sliding to the left and swinging her sword upwards, in an attempt to catch him while he was off balance and least expecting it.

He did not immediately counter, as she had hoped, but her blade rushed past him, just a hair's breath away from his side.

Evelyn had hoped to finish the fight quickly and to prove her worth in the win, but it was not to be.

The elf before her had quickly realized he had sorely underestimated his opponent and had began to fight more seriously, calculating her skill and movements with great speed.

On his right foot, he spun around and threw at her a series of movements, throwing her off balance as she desperately tried to ward off his attack. His movements were foreign and well-practiced, and she had great difficulty keeping up with his skill.

At last, in a lurch, she spun around in a crouched position, kicking at the backs of his knees in hopes that he would lose his balance.

He did, and her opponent fell on his back, mildly disgraced as she herself laughed at his strange position on the ground before her.

"You lose, boy."

The mediator had spoken quietly behind her, his words cutting through her gaity like a reaper to straw.

She had not noticed before in all her excitement at almost besting her opponent, but sure enough, there was a thin trail of blood on her left arm, where the elf before her had slit as he had fallen.

Evelyn huffed in disappointment, but nonetheless held her hand out towards her opponent, acknowledging his skill in respect.

The girl was pleasured to have the elf before her grasp her arm, and she helped him up from the ground where he had fallen with a smile gracing her features.

Then, unexpectedly, the elf she had dueled swung his arm around her shoulders as though he were more familiar with her than he really was.

"What's your name, little one?"

She found it quite strange that he spoke to her in such an amicable way, for she had lost the fight. She did not deserve such treatment for her lack of skill.

Apparently, her features reflected her confusion for the elf beside her threw back his head in amusement, laughter bubbling up lyrically from his throat.

"Elrohir, Elrohir, look at his bewitched face! He looks at me as though I have grown another head!"

The mediator, his brother, swung his arm around her as well, and the sudden, increased weight upon her shoulders made her lurch forward, only to be held upright by two strong arms.

"My, my your shoulders are quite frail aren't they, little one?"

"They're as thin as a woman's!"

She scowled at their teasing, suddenly hit by a wave of nostalgia.

Rabe had done the same as they, incessantly teasing her about her strange ways and small body. Even as a woman, Evelyn had not been tall. Quite the opposite, in fact, much to her chagrin.

"Why do you treat me so? I have lost the duel."

It was quite surprising how quick they were to become sober in their laughter.

"Aye, that you did. Yet, you have proven your own self. You have shown skill not even Aragorn had in his younger days. It was quite shocking really."

The elf, Elrohir, glanced at his brother who seemed to almost continue his brother's thought. "I enjoyed our little battle very much so. You have shown your worth, little one."

At their words of encouragement, she felt her body warm in happiness. Their words held as much weight as those of Ulrich.

"Thank you both. I am Eadrik, and it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance." Evelyn broke free from their embrace and spun around, taking a bow in formailty.

The two before her grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, once again having their arms settled comfortably around her neck.

"We'll have none of that little, one. We are much too familiar for that sort of greeting. I am Elladan," The elf who spoke craned his neck, reaching her eye-level in a lopsided, cheeky manner, giving her a wink in emphasis.

"And I, Elrohir."

"I do believe you will be seeing our faces quite often, little one. We wish to see what else you have to surprise us."

With that, the two beside her laughed, their amusement echoing through the trees about them in a lighthearted fashion.

xXx

"Quickly, little one! Do not let father see you!"

Elladan gave her a push, and the poor girl stumbled into the half opened doors, embarrassed for what she was about to do.

Surely it was not stealing if the sons of Elrond were the two thieving from their father?

As for her, it was another matter altogether.

The young woman let out a breath in nervousness. It had been much too often that she had allowed the twin elves steal her away from other company and the safety of her own rooms, only to coerce her into one of their latest schemes and the newest practical jokes.

The last one had been yesterday, and she felt quite sorry for the maid who had been the victim of their jokes that time. She had slipped in molasses and had fallen in a bed filled with insects of all sorts.

The shrill cry of distress she had let loose could be heard all throughout the city.

The two elves had given her triumphant looks in their success, while she returned a mildly amused one. It shamed her to think she would find joy in another's discomfort.

The girl strode through the dimly lit aisles, the books on the shelves and dust trying to obscure the sun from the room.

Evelyn slowly wandered around the books, wondering where Elrond was. Her nerves continued to make her muscles jump erratically, and she wondered if the wise elf would realize she had been set up to distract him by his own sons.

It was at the farthest corner of the library where she found the half-elf. He was having difficulty finding a book, it seemed like.

As expected, he had heard her approach long before she had arrived in the aisle he had hidden in.

"Elrond," she acknowledged him respectfully, bowing her head slowly.

He did not look up from his perusal, but she knew to wait patiently for him to regard her presence.

He did so at his own pace, slowly bring book after book to his eyes, scanning one or two pages, only to put it back in the slot he had taken it from once again. This he did several times, until at last he came upon a dusty old book with curious silver markings.

She had spent several evenings with Frodo and his uncle here in the library, for the younger had insisted upon her company. Her interest in elvish culture had stunned the old hobbit, but he quickly and enthusiastically began telling her of all that he knew, to the point of teaching her how to read a few words in the finely crafted books.

Nowadays however, it seemed that the two elf twins seemed to find stealing her away from those sessions their duty, insisting that if she continued such study she would grow old and haggard within the next year.

Bilbo and Frodo had allowed them to steal her away, smiles lining their mouths and lighting their eyes.

"Evelyn, is there any reason you are here?"

His gaze fastened on her eyes, and her thoughts were broken, directed towards he who had spoken. Her mouth had gone dry for she realized that she had completely forgotten what Elladan and Elrohir had told her to say to their father. Now she would make a fool of her own self.

The red-haired woman stuttered and stumbled over several nonsensical words, trying to think of something to say, but nothing coming to mind.

At last she, with her face blazing a fiery red, turned and walked away, mumbling apologies for her disruption. Those two troublesome elves would have to save their own skins if they were caught.

Unfortunately, before she could flee, Elrond called out to her, making conversation on his own as though he took no notice of her strange actions.

Never before had she sought for him.

"My dear girl, do you know of the forest of Lòthlorien?"

Blinking several times, she hesitated before replying, "Aye. It is said that a strange witch lives there, enchanting all who dare enter the forest through her beauty and wisdom."

The half-elf laughed quietly to his own self, and the girl wondered if she had spoken wrong.

"You are quite right, but Lòrien is not at all as you say. Lady Galadriel knows many things, and she has great beauty. It is not as Men say, however, for she is a kind and gentle lady.

Moreover, she has requested your acquaintance, and I believe the Woods of Lòrien will do you well. What say you?"

Evelyn was baffled at his request. She did not know what to say, nor what to do. She had not given much thought to what she would do when the time came to leave Imladris.

Again, she felt her face begin to turn red in embarrassment.

At that moment, loud banging could be heard, and the twins entered their aisle with little grace.

"_Nae saian luume'_, _atar_! (4) Might we steal this little one from you? He had not come to the place we had decided upon to meet and we had started to worry!"

Elrohir gave a grand entrance with loud, flourishing words, while his twin swept their quarry away with a powerful arm. "We best be going, _tenna' telwan_. (5)"

She gave the oldest elf one last glance before the two elves beside her push her into the next aisle, quickly escorting her out of the libraries.

"Little one, I thought we three agreed to meet in the gardens once we had finished our task!" Elladan gave her an admonishing glance to which she glowered, knowing that their task had not been at all important.

Little one was the name they insisted on using since the duel. They referred both to her stature and her years. She did not mind it, but the name could, at times, make her cringe in annoyance.

"We were afraid you had been found by father. 'Twould have been a shame if he forbade you from seeing us." Elrohir gave her a more sincere look, concern etched on his features.

"For what _had_ you taken so long?" Elladan threw her a look of suspicion to which she flushed, continuing to walk on in the growing darkness.

Though the shadows were growing longer, sharp elven eyes continued inspect her thoroughly.

At last, she hesitantly spoke.

"I have been invited into the presence of Lady Galadriel. But it is a choice, and I do not know what to do."

With those solemn words, the playful elves beside her immediately stilled, faces lighting with a seriousness she had not seen before.

"I think it best if you choose for your own self little one. Is it not time for you to decide your own fate?"

At his words, she again flushed, remembering what she had sworn to Ulrich, only to have been so easily put aside for temporary happiness.

"Aye, Elrohir. You are right."

The other elf to her left ruffled her hair in affection, encouraging her with his words.

"You will know what to do in time. Be patient."

xXx

It was as Elladan had said. Over the course of four days, she had felt the need to leave.

It was not because she waso not satisfied with the life she led here. The hospitality of the house of Elrond had exceeded all her expectations.

Moreover, she had grown more fond of those two troublesome elves than she would ever admit aloud. However, though the training they gave to improve her swordsmanship was helpful, it was taken erratically and with little seriousness.

Perhaps in a later time she would have such fun with them again, but the reminder of her promise to Ulrich remained with her.

She would not forget what she had set out to finish again.

Perhaps the Lady would know what to do, in all her wisdom and knowledge.

So it was at this time, after the two month she had spent living comfortable in the city of Imladris that she decided to leave.

Fortunately, it was also during this time that the Fellowship had begun the preparation for their departure as well. Elrond had requested of Aragorn that she join their party for safe passage through the Misty Mountains. Once the mountains had been safely crossed, she would leave the group and make her way down South, to the Golden Wood.

The ranger had agreed to the request, warmly welcoming her presence among the Nine. The rest had been delighted to accept her among them, Frodo being the most excited.

She found her own self now in her rooms, packing what little she had for the journey that would start on the morrow.

Elladan and Elrohir had been of the first to hear of her decision, and though they mourned her leave, they had given her proud looks, knowing that it was for the best that she leave.

At noon, they had brought her to the training grounds where they had first met and presented her with a newly crafted elvish sword, fit for one her height.

The sword was thin and light, with elvish runes carved into the blade and a beautiful ivory hilt etched with gold. The blade curved slightly, and her reflection glinted in the well-wraught steel.

In her delight, she had allowed their incessant teasing to continue, and she had thanked them again and again for the lavish gift.

They had claimed it was something that she should have, to remember the two of them by.

But she needed nothing to help her remember. They were two great friends, and she would forever hold them dear in her heart.

* * *

A/N: Please review! I don't bite :) I would love anything! from criticism to praise to the why the color of the sky's blue ^_^

Translations:  
1: Greetings  
2: I'm sorry, my friends  
3: Good luck  
4: It has been too long, father  
5: Until later

~fubunny


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